Pianism
by Canadino
Summary: You are so sweet, dancing to that beat. Jack/Simon AU


**Disclaimer: : The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

Background music: Dance Anthem of the 80's – Regina Spektor

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Pianism

He supposed it was only luck that he happened to be situated in one of the busiest streets in London. Surrounded by the picture-perfect market street, he could open his window and see people of every walks of life walking around below him. And now it was summer; no more school to coop him up in a dusty classroom and an ancient teacher droning about irrelevant topics. With his parents selling sweets in the store below his feet, he could stay by himself at the window with the blue sky stretching farther away than he could physically see.

They had gotten him a piano, maturing his love for music ever since he had joined the church choir. He was not interested in going out to see friends or getting air; an hour or so with the keys and music was enough to satisfy him. Now that he could play adequately, he would do so, providing music for the customers below him so that his parents could slyly brag about their talented son who stayed cooped up in himself.

Today was going to be another beautiful day, Simon concluded as he opened the window soundlessly, letting the breeze carry the light curtains past his face and into the room in a healthy billow.

He had practiced his scales and he was sitting still, listening to the chatter on the street and swinging his legs from the piano stool that was still too high for his feet to touch the ground even at its lowest, as he was rather small for his age. He couldn't discern the voices to the people, but just as he was starting to doze off, he heard a boy he could have picked out from a million.

He didn't have to go the window anymore to know Jack was walking by with his pack of friends, laughing loudly and discussing their daily plans to linger and loiter at the café down the street to try and charm one of the local girls into talking a walk with them. The breeze picked up and just as his hair settled back limp on his head, his fingers rested on the piano in a moment of inactivity before they moved despite themselves and the air was filled with gentle notes.

There was a hush, the same silence he experienced every time he played; that he couldn't hear anything else but the music and his heartbeat as his fingers fluttered across the ivory. He had no recollection of the time afterwards, just blinking after recovering from the sudden trance. It was an out of body experience when he played, almost like the faints he was so victim to, except it wasn't uncomfortable.

When he ventured downstairs a while afterwards, he was surprised to see Jack standing at the counter alone, having a chat with his mum. Simon stopped, almost feeling instinct making him step back toward the stairs. But his mum spotted him and waved him over, take a look at this fine young man! Does he do choir too, why have you never mentioned him? Simon nodded as she went on, staring at the ground as he felt Jack's eyes trained on him.

After a while, she bustled around to help another customer and Simon found himself on one side of the counter with Jack on the other, the taller boy leaning casually on the glass as if he'd done it all his life.

"Was that you, playing?"

The ground came up to him as he nodded, but he found himself still upright.

"I didn't know you played, kid." Because Jack referred to everyone as 'kid'. Simon could almost hear the melodic speaking voice that had made Jack head choir boy. "You wanna come out with us today and muck around?"

The glass jar holding the gumballs needed polishing, Simon thought, as he shook his head, slowly at first before walking back toward the stairs, calmly although he had wanted to sprint. A sixteen year old boy had no business with someone four years his junior. He caught his breath in the shadow of the stairs and waited until Jack finally left to catch up with his chums before moving.

The next day was another fine day; an unusual length of sweet days for rainy England. The window swung open again and Simon was greeted by the mauve curtains blowing into his face again, the gentle gesture that made him smile somewhat. It was another busy day; housewives and bored children wandering the streets haphazardly. His fingers found the same tangled journey as they strolled over the keys again, filling the room and house with sound. Something about the good weather and good fortune made him unusual; he found himself singing with the song. Not any one particular word or groups of words; no, his voice just found the notes, climbing to harmonize against the piano, falling silent when reality set back in and his hands lifted from the keyboard.

Business was slow again today, with only the occasional mother wearily taking her child to buy a present sweet again. Simon appeared at the doorway, and seeing no one in the store he knew, turned and disappeared against despite his mother's beckon. The room and the breeze and blue sky was calling.

There was a violin playing a distance away, the strings' calls heard even from a place where he couldn't even see the player. There was another sweets store, down the street, with a kindly woman with a portly nephew he hadn't seen in a while. The song was familiar, and he found himself harmonizing again, starting with a hum until his lips peeled apart for the notes to come out.

His mother said his voice would never change, she would not let it because it sounded so angelic. His father had said if that happened, he was leaving and taking the candy with him. He remembered the deep chuckle his father made when he and his mother protested, knowing someday his octaves would drop to no one's surprise. The breeze carried the softness away.

When he paused to catch his breath, he heard clapping and looked down to see a stock of red hair. He let the lilac curtains catch and hide him back in the room, sliding down so all he could see was the blue sky peeking down at him.

He must have dozed off, the fiddler and the warmth taking him to new heights, but when he blinked again, it was an auburn sky that greeted him and a small bunch of voices outside, arguing. _The girls like _you_ and you're never there! Even if you don't show interest, throw us some bones, eh? Where do you go all these times? You said singing was over during the summer!_

The polished black piano was beckoning but Simon stayed where he was, wrapped in the curtains.

"What I do is my business. I thought you said you didn't like it when I was the boss, you wankers."

He couldn't remember how many times he'd played, all based on the fact that the weather was very nice for weeks and weeks so that the months between school based by in sunshine and white clouds. The neighbors laughed that the rain had gone to America and it rained on someone else's parade. It was good; he rarely got air and if he could open the window, it was a good thing.

One morning he woke and heard the sound of rain pattering on the sill. Staring at the gray that was commonplace, he unlatched the window and pried it open slightly. He was a strange bloke like that, opening windows when it rained. The sound of rain was comforting and offered a nice background as he set off another morning of rising notes.

The sun wasn't there to escalate his mood and he heard the rain fall on the umbrellas of the passerby's, pitter patter, pitter patter.

The air was cool and he let it fill his lungs, careful to make sure the room didn't get too damp or the strings might not play as well. _Pitter patter, pitter patter_. For once, his fingers cramped and he stared at them for a moment. _Pitter patter, pitter patter_. Walking to the window and pushing the slightly saturated curtains back, there was a yellow umbrella under his window and before he could call out, he heard his mother open the store door and beckon the visitors in before he caught his death.

He came downstairs to the kitchen and Jack was sitting at his kitchen table, having tea of all things with his mother.

"Darling! Mr. Merridew was outside, can you believe it? In the rain? He's been coming by recently, and I could understand, it has been nice, but today of all days? I had to let him in before he got completely soaked! And would you guess, he wanted to hear you play?"

His mother was a chatterbox. Jack's eyes had not left him since he entered the room. He kept his eyes on the burnt spot on the table from when his father tried to impress them with some flaming dish and accidentally nearly set the whole house on fire. He felt heat settle on his face.

"He went to all the trouble of walking out here, you'll play for him, won't you, darling?" His mother was busying herself around the kitchen, barely looking at either of them. Jack's blue eyes were shadows, waiting for movement as he grinned.

"Yeah, kid, you'll play for me, won't you?"

His feet had never reached the floor since they'd gotten the grand piano, and that had never been a problem but when someone was watching, he felt a bit self conscious, wishing his toes skimmed the ground at least. Jack was leaning against the door, watching, calculating.

The window was closed now, in case the rain disagreed with the redhead.

He couldn't recall any songs but his fingers moved despite his block. He was a bit surprised how different the song came out, tense but still airy and beyond the reach of either in the room. The eyes said _sing, _and Simon opened his mouth, because when the head choir boy said _sing_, you sang. He couldn't block out other sounds; he was distracted.

When the last note drawled out, Jack finally moved, shifting from his station at the door over to the piano seat, hovering over Simon like he did at church, leaning down to say something about the quality of the piano and Simon had wanted to say something to respond and somehow their lips met and he sang again, his voice soaring to join the notes that had since hit the atmosphere and were steadily rising higher and higher.

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Note: Yeah, I like Jack/Simon, sue me. Regina Spektor saves me from LOTF hiatus. I like AUs. Review, please.


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